


Prologue to Happiness

by Conspiracy



Category: sweet pool
Genre: M/M, Yes again, everyones human no one dies au, i dont know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conspiracy/pseuds/Conspiracy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pretty much just a little scenario me and the bae thought of for how we could get these two guys together so they can be happy boyfriends<br/>betad by her and then again by me so if there are still mistakes idk what to tell you read around em<br/>the title is dumb and so is the summary but if youd read it and give reviews id be super happy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue to Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to rinrin, the zen to my mako <3

"Where's your boy tonight, Makoto?" 

The question, posed in a high, playful, tenor, cut through the surrounding buzz of people and broke the brunet from his thoughts, most of which revolved around how awful the food at this party was and how he should probably leave soon. 

He hadn't known that Zenya Okinaga would be at this particular shindig, and had he he might not have come; now there was absolutely no way to get out of speaking to him, at least without causing a scene. 

Perfect. 

Of course he knew he was talking about Youji, and the mere thought of the two having anything to do with each other made his hand clench around the plastic cup he held, the liquid still inside sloshing a bit and threatening to overflow. 

It was bad enough that Shironuma was in the picture. 

"What business is it a yours?" the sentence came out a bit more hostile than he meant for it to, but only drew a soft chuckle from the blonde, who had taken to placing his hand against the wall next to Makotos' head, effectively boxing him in on one side and putting but a few inches between them. 

When had that happened? This guy moved so fast it was almost creepy. 

He could almost feel his single blue-green eye boring a hole into him, as he often did when he found himself unguarded in public, and internally lamented that he had lost his chance to escape, regardless of the scene he would have had to cause to do so. 

"None, but someone like you shouldn't be in a place like this alone." The sentence was no more than a purr, meant for him and only him to hear, and if he had more than one hand free he would have shoved him away just due to the shiver that ran down his spine. 

Everyone and their brother knew Zenya was bad news, and he was no exception. Lately the amount of attention he had been getting from him was.....disconcerting. At least he didn't think he would try anything too skeevy with all these people around. 

Then again, considering who he was dealing with, it wouldn't be a stretch. He was a wild card, after all.

"I don't know what you think you're gonna accomplish with this, but if this is how you want to get close to Youji--" 

"Why do you think I want Youji?" the question, low and cool and amused, speared what he had been about to say and stopped him in his tracks mentally, mahogany eyes widening a bit. 

No matter how he wracked his brain, he really couldn't imagine why else this conversation would be happening.

"Has it really not occurred to you that maybe you're the one I'm interested in?" another purr of a sentence, barely there and easily drowned out by their surroundings, except this time it sounded almost disappointed, as if his sudden surprise had revealed something about him that the other male hadn't entirely expected. 

Sure, he had thought that, every time after about the fifth time he had caught him blatantly staring at him, but every time he had brushed it off. 

After all, he wasn't the kind of guy you dated or fell in love with; he was the kind of guy you laughed at, hung out with, remembered years later as being 'fun', and honestly he had never been quite interested in the work it took to be in a relationship, with anyone except for Youji, who had made it very obvious at this point that he favored men of a.....taller, smarter, variety, no matter how much he tried to ignore that on a daily basis. 

Noting his stunned silence, Zenya had gone right on talking, close enough to him now that warm breaths brushed against his ear, and had he not been frozen in place this would be the part where he ran for his life. 

"Don't you ever get tired of waiting for him, Makoto? Is he really worth so much frustration? Is he really so special? Don't you think you deserve......" A large hand pressed against his chest, pushing him further against the wall, and traced its way slowly downwards in a way that lit his nerves on fire. "Better? More?" 

"You.....don't.....don't know what you're...talkin' about..." he sputtered out, struggling to untie his tongue and wishing his mouth wasn't suddenly so dry. 

"Oh, I don't, do I?" his tone of voice was teasing him again, and when the brunets gaze once more landed on a pale face, it was the picture of amusement, bathed in the flashing, colorful lights overhead, "What did I get wrong, then?" 

"He is....! He is worth it.......and special, you don't understand!I wouldn't expect you to understand....." His voice frayed at the edges, as if he desperately wanted to believe the words he had spoken more than he did, and he could feel more sets of eyes on him as intoxicated youths turned to watch their conversation with the sort of fascination they might if they thought a fight was going to break out. 

"I understand a lot more than you think." 

The next few minutes were a blur; someones lips pressed against his own, they had to be Zenyas, as ridiculous as that was and as much as every cell in him wanted to reject it, he at least understood that much through the rush of warm sensation that flooded him, and the last thing he registered apart from the sound of his drink crashing to the floor and his arms twining around a warm neck was the collective sound of the rooms inhabitants gasping and hooting like they were watching a daytime sitcom.

It wasn't that Makoto had never been kissed before, he had had a few girlfriends throughout his middle and high school career, he had just never been kissed like this before; every moment seemed to make his knees get weaker, and before he realized he had opened his mouth a tongue was mapping it out, the taste of the same fruit punch he had just held mixed with something sharp and indefinable crashing over him like a tidal wave. 

Everywhere their bodies connected was like fireworks and warm summer mornings, even moreso when a slim-fingered hand wound its way into his mess of hair, and it was everything he could do to keep up, to give all of himself to his responses as he was worked over like dough.

And then it was over, almost just as quick as it had begun; the warm presence exited from him mouth to leave him alone with his ragged breaths and the hand ruffled its way through his hair and down the side of his neck only to tilt up his chin, as if Zenya was taking this time to examine his face, which was appropriately flushed if the burn in his cheeks was anything to go by.

It seemed like an eternity before he slid his eyes open to yet another soft chuckle, the spectators in the small room considerably still in apprehension of what would happen next.  
"Bet you he can't do that, now can he?" he was appropriately smug, as if he had accomplished exactly what he had meant to, and Makoto was pretty sure even through the daze in his thoughts and the dizzy tilt that the universe had taken on that he had. 

But why him? 

It was a question he never got to ask, at least on that night, because before he knew it the weight pinning him to the wall was gone and Zenya had easily cleared a path through the crowd of gawkers, all of them appearing just as shaken as Makoto felt at the current moment. 

All he really knew is that part of him, a part that he was sure wouldn't be easily buried, wanted to chase after him, craved to taste him again, and that......could be a problem.  
Maybe. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been 2 weeks or so since the party, and not a day had gone by when Makoto hadn't thought of Zenya. 

Of course it was because of what he had said, at least partially; the words rang in his head, kept him up at night. Was chasing after Youji worth his time? Did he really have the value that he had internally placed on him years ago? He had always felt like wthout him, he would have nothing, but had that ever been the case? 

But it was also because he seemed to be popping up everywhere; his favorite fast food place, the route he took home, the tables he was known to frequent at lunch. It was a bit......daunting, just how quickly he had seemed to memorize his schedule. Not that he ever changed it much. 

It had gotten to the point where people were starting to notice, to question him. Not that he cared, anyway, because there wasn't anything to tell; everyone already knew about what happened at the party, had repeatedly asked him if he was 'okay', what it had been like, not that he ever answered the second one. Whether they asked because they actually cared or because they needed another piece of gossip to spread around, well....he already knew the answer to that. 

The brunet didn't mind having Zenya around, at least, not as much he used to, almost looked forward to seeing him on his daily walk home. He was a nice distraction from how much time Youji was spending with Shironuma lately, anyway, which bothered him no matter what he did. 

Still, no matter how much time he spent with him, he couldn't figure out what about him someone like that could possibly find interesting. 

He had to want something, right? Had to be in it for some kind of gain, or worse, just playing with him. It's not like it was something he would put past him. 

"Something on your mind?" 

The voice startled him, and he looked to his left side where exactly the person in question had managed to materialize next to him without him noticing, blonde locks glimmering in the late afternoon sunlight and the usual small bounce in his step. 

"Jeez, don't sneak up on me like that." he trailed off with a laugh, sure he should be used to that by now, too. 

"That doesn't answer my question." 

He sighed, good nature having faded knowing he would expect an answer, and rubbed the back of his neck, gaze sliding off to the side.  
"Why are you.....so interested in me?" 

The question didn't look like it surprised him, and he rolled his shoulders before he answered.  
"Don't you think somebody should be?" 

His immediate answer would have been 'not really', but he surpressed the urge to say that out loud. 

"So what am I, a charity case? Is that what this is, your humanitarian side peekin' out?" There was a certain bite to the words, and he stopped in his tracks in front of the other male, spinning and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Sure, he could still push past him if he wanted, but something told him that he probably wouldn't. 

And he didn't, instead slipping his hands into his pockets and arching up a pale eyebrow. 

"Do I really seem like the kind of guy who does charity?" 

Well, no, okay, he had him there. 

".........Why, then?" 

"Because I like you, even if you don't." 

Makoto easily fell out of his defensive posture, not sure what to say in response to the chord that he had just struck. How had he guessed that just by talking to him for a few weeks? He guessed he didn't hide it very well, but nobody had ever noticed before. 

"Are you planning on staring at me until it gets dark?" 

He looked up at the sky, which was steadily blackening, and then back at Zenya before returning to his side and starting to walk forward again, although he remained silent. 

Lots of girls had told him they liked him, so why did it feel so different now? His mind flashed to the party again, to the kiss, and he was grateful the light was low so the other male couldn't see the flush he wore. 

The thought crossed his mind that maybe it was just Zenya that made it special, and he squashed it immediately. Thinking like that was the last thing he needed to be doing, especially if......

"Don't.....say stuff like that if you don't. Mean it."

A warm hand enclosed one of his own, which before had been hanging limply at his side, fingertips caressing his palm.  
"Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
